Werewolf
by EchoL4
Summary: Getting scratched by a werewolf was painful enough, the aftermath even more. After getting scratched by a werewolf, Nico goes through unfortunate side effects. Set after the BoO


**Disclaimer: I do not own**

 **Hello, world. Here is my first fanfiction into the delightful world of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. And with new fanfictions comes the disappearance of crappy titles.**

 **Sprodiac updates.**

 **R &R**

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Nico's arm was burning like Hades. The werewolf scratches weren't supposed to still be infected; Will said so and he was the head counselor of the Apollo cabin and he was supposed to be right. Supposed to.

He had been scratched by a werewolf some time ago when he was in the middle of transporting the Athena Parthenos to Camp Half-Blood; battling werewolves with a really heavy statue wasn't a good idea, but Reyna and Nico had still done it. Because they were demigods, of course. And demigods naturally did stupid things.

Nico contemplated going to Will and telling him, but he didn't want to be a bother in the infirmary. Will seemed to be really bad at time management skills, and he paid too much attention to Nico whenever he was in the infirmary, so everyone would probably be better off without Nico in there.

He never liked infirmaries anyway.

There was a sudden pounding on the door of Nico's cabin, loud banging that made Nico flinch every time he heard it. Grimacing, Nico hurried the the door of the Hades cabin, tripping over a pile of clothing (where had that come from), and jerked it open.

"What the-" He began, getting cut off.

"Where were you for the last, oh, I dunno, million years!?" Will Solace was standing in the doorway of the cabin and looked very irritated that, well, Nico didn't tell him where he was for a while.

Nico scowled. He could go where he wanted, thank you very much. And it was for a week, honestly.

"Oh, here and there," Nico replied vaguely, gesturing with his hands. He took a look at Will's face. Yup, definitely angry. "Okay, jeez, I'm sorry," Nico continued, grimacing when his scratched arm nudged the door frame. Will didn't notice, so that was good, "I was in London for an assignment for my father."

Will groaned, sliding his hands over his face. "Your dad again. Again."

"Well, yeah. Again. He's my father. He sort of has to make me do stuff," Nico replied, grinning weakly. It wasn't the best comeback.

"That," Will replied, puffing his chest up and pointing at Nico, "is extremely flawed logic that needs to change. I'm sure Percy would agree."

It was Nico's turn to groan.

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"You can't do stuff like this," Nico muttered, "It's called blackmail." He had been coerced by Will, Will Solace no less, to attend the campfire that day after a month or so of not attending.

"It's not blackmail, di Angelo, it's called harsh encouragement," Will replied, rolling his eyes, "Honestly."

Nico began imagining the multitude of ways Will Solace could die. It was surprisingly easy.

He was on Number 47, Will being mauled slowly to death by a Reyna's dogs, when somebody (cough, cough, Will, cough, cough) grabbed his lovely, scratched, werewolf-infected arm, shoved him towards the campfire and knocked a couple Apollo kids over.

Hissing and grabbing his arm, he stumbled forward and hoped that somewhere out there Karma was watching.

Nobody noticed, so he was still safe.

 _Thank you, invisible nonexistent Karma. I owe you one._

He ended up on the short tree stump which acted as a podium for campers who wanted to sing, scowling at the campers in the crowd when they began murmuring about _OMG Nico di Angelo is going to sing, isn't that interesting._ No, it wasn't interesting in the least.

"Sing Nico, sing!" Will suddenly crowed, supporting the crowd. He grabbed a lyre and strumming "How Grandma Puts on her Armor."

Nico rolled his eyes.

"Uh, no."

"SING!" Will grabbed a megaphone and yelled into it, and Nico fought down the urge to bite his arm, which was dangling very nicely (it was a nice arm) by Will's side. No, Nico, you may not bite Will even though you are insane, Nico chided himself.

"No," Nico said.

"SING! SING! SING! ETCETERA!"

It went on for a while until Katie Gardner, daughter of Demeter, took pity on Nico.

"Solace, leave Nico alone. He clearly-" she shot Nico a look that clearly said she expected him to pay her back "-doesn't want to sing." And she fixed Will with a stare that made him grin sheepishly and shove Nico before sulking away.

"Thanks," Nico muttered to her, "I owe you one." _And invisible, nonexistent Karma one too._

They stayed long into the night, the nearly full moon casting a pale glow on the campers. The fire began to die, but no one seemed to care since apparently having an almost full moon was enough . They were demigods after all.

"Hey, Nico!" somebody yelled. It was Percy Jackson, twice-hero-of-Olympus and Annabeth's boyfriend. Percy ran over, looping a lanky arm over Nico's shoulder who vaguely noticed that Percy was still more wiry than muscular.

"Er… hi," Nico mumbled, awkwardly shifting out of Percy's grip, resisting the second urge to bite someone. Percy seemed so much more touchy-feely recently… actually since the "I'm not your type" incident which happened so long ago it didn't really matter. Not to Percy, apparently.

Annabeth must've noticed his discomfort though, and grinned, walking over and shoving Percy.

"Seaweed brain…?" She said, trailing off, raising an eyebrow.

Percy just grinned, walking over to her and looping an arm around her (and not Nico, which was a relief).

"Yeah, yeah. Getting over it." 'It' not being specified.

Percy hadn't changed much over the past year. He remained the same: cocky, selfless, oblivious and Nico was sure they were all thankful for it. The campers all had expected something, like what normally happened to war survivors. Like Percy would turn… cold or something. But Percy's very birth had broken a rule; it was only obvious that he would be the one to break the post-war survivor cliche.

Annabeth, on the other hand, had turned slightly less logical and more easy-going. Like Travis had said, she didn't scare him that much anymore.

And it was apparently all thanks to Piper, who Nico didn't really know all that well.

Piper had turned Jason less rigid too, apparently and now Jason was sporting shoulder-length surfer hair (was that what it was called? Being from the 1930's made Nico a little… behind the times) and his shirt wasn't tucked in anymore. His shirt. Call the authorities!

"Well, I don't know! Do you know?" Percy was saying, waving his arms around. His pen sword thingy (a pen sword, wasn't that lame) was in his hand, and Nico wondered what would happen if the cap flew off.

Lots of blood, probably, and some new souls to join Hades.

 _Well,_ that _was morbid_ , Nico thought, _Very morbid. I'm trying to keep from morbid thoughts, thank you very much._

"Yes, I do know, Seaweed brain!" Annabeth replied. Her arms were crossed while her left hand gestured wildly in some semblance of reason.

Watching her, Nico suddenly felt lethargic, and he slunk off to his cabin (which still looked like a vampire home since he hadn't gotten around to redecorating) and kicked off his shoes. They tapped away somewhere in the corner and Nico fleetingly wondered how he would find them in the morning.

And then he fell asleep with his clothing still on.

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A/N: REVIEW!


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